


The Story of Her Night

by riddikulusgrin (klavgavtrash)



Series: 'Liza and Laf [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Lafayette is marginally salty, Laurens is asexual, Multi, No infidelity/cheating, Nobody asked for this ship but here it is, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Takes place over one day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2015-12-17
Packaged: 2018-05-07 06:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5446415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klavgavtrash/pseuds/riddikulusgrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza bumps into one of her fiancé's old college friends at a bar in New York. Said fiancé is spending the night with his boyfriend, meaning what happens next is totally justifiable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Story of Her Night

**Author's Note:**

> Literally nobody asked for this fic but I got the idea in my head and it wouldn't leave. I just love writing polyamory negotiations? And you can reimagine this quad in so many ways it's beautiful. I'd like to make this part of series, actually, with the relationship evolving/Alex's reaction, etc. But for now I wanted this fic to take place over 24 hours so that's what I did.

Eliza was in the habit of waking up at round 6am on work days, even though she didn’t have to be at the school until 8:30. Today, Alexander was sitting up in bed when she awoke, laptop perched on his lap.

“Alex,” she murmured, squinting at the brightly lit screen in the still-dark bedroom. 

He made a shushing noise, “Eliza, go back to sleep.”

She turned to squint at the alarm clock, picking it up off the bedside table - ten to six. “I have to get up for work,” she murmured, rubbing at her eyes. 

Alex ripped his eyes away from the screen to look at her. He looked horrible, the bags under his eyes even more pronounced than normal, and still in his shirt from the day before. “What?”

As she’d thought, he’d written through the night. ‘What time did you start?” she asked, as she flung the covers off herself. She hadn't seen him go to bed.

“I- about two? I had to draft this speech for Washington-”

“he can write his own speeches,” said Eliza, flicking on the bedside light and swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Alex, his eyes back on the screen, “Liza, I’m almost done, I’ll sleep once I’ve-“

“Now,” said Eliza, and she leaned over to slam the laptop shut. Alex stared at her, affronted. 

“Eliza-” he tried, but she shushed him. “You’re meant to be in the office by nine. I’m going to get ready for work, and you’re going to have a nap.” 

Alex grumbled something about how Washington was counting on him, but set the laptop down beside the double bed and unbuttoned his shirt, balling it up and throwing it on the floor so he was just in boxers. He didn’t put his head on the pillow quite yet, however, apparently waiting up until Eliza left the room. 

She padded to the shower and Alex was still awake when she returned, tapping on his phone. “Alexander-” she said warningly, and he sighed, “I’m going to sleep. I was just arranging with John-” 

“What’s John doing up at this time?” she asked, towelling her hair dry, “I thought he worked late?” 

“No, he’s not online. I’m just texting,” said Alex, “I was going to spend tonight at his?” he said it like a question, and Eliza sighed. Two years, they’d been together, and he still felt guilty about spending time with his second partner. 

“That sounds like fun, you need a break.” 

Alex shook his head, “We’re going to work on his anti-trafficking essays.”

 “Sleep, too.” 

“Eliza-”

“Alexander,” she said, “you're not a student anymore, you can’t work yourself to exhaustion.” She leant across the bed and kissed him, holding her towel around her chest with one hand. 

"Ok," said Alex, putting down his phone, “I have no doubt he’ll force me into bed anyway.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” said Eliza, “You boys have fun - will I see you this evening?” Alex considered it.

“No, I’ll probably go straight there after work, if that’s ok?”

“Not a problem,” said Eliza, and she kissed him again for good measure before leaning away and resuming her hair-drying, “Text me so I know you’re all right - and go to sleep.” 

Alex finally shuffled down in the bed, pulling the covers over himself. Despite Eliza pottering around the bedroom, getting dressed, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. He really could work himself into the ground, that man. 

Eliza loved her job. Her friends and all her family but Peggy had gone into politics, and she knew they sometimes questioned her decision to train as an elementary school teacher. But she loved her class, and they loved her. She could never have been happy in a proper office. 

They greeted her every morning, said “Good morning Miss Schuyler” in sing-song voices and listened to her stories about her sister and fiancee’s work (simplified greatly for nine-year-old ears) with rapt excitement. To them, she was the coolest ever. She knew all the big names. Their was a playground rumour that she was best friends with Martha Washington - and, I mean, it wasn’t too far from the truth.

School always let out at three, which meant Eliza was done by four or five, once she’d done her marking at her desk. The incompatibility of her timetable and Alex’s was the only big disadvantage of her job. But it was nice to be home when Alex came in, exhausted and antsy, at seven, eight,even nine, spitting about Madison and Jefferson and “Democratic fucking Republicans, Eliza, I _swear_ -”

Eliza tried her best to understand, but really she’d never had the head for it all in the way Angelica did. That’s when it was most useful to have John around. He understood Alex far more than she did when he went off on one of his little rants.

That was one thing she could count on John Laurens for: getting Alex to take care of himself. A night at Laurens’ meant a night of good rest, which Alexander sorely needed.

She took the subway back to their New York apartment, letting herself in and throwing the keys on the counter, her laptop bag on the sofa. 

She only realised when she was on her third or fourth hour of TV that she was feeling a little lonely. It was a Friday night. All her friends were working or out of the country. She was still young, and pretty, and in New York. 

Could she go out drinking alone? On a scale of one to ten, how pitiful was is for a young woman to go out drinking alone because her fiancé was at his boyfriend’s? 

It didn’t matter. She wanted to let her hair down, so she was going to. She wasn’t as good at Angelica at forming temporary friends, or as Alex at pulling people into her orbit in just one conversation, but she’d manage. People were more friendly when they were drunk. 

Eliza took another shower, rubbing off elementary-school-kid grime, and blowed out her hair. She deliberated for a moment before changing into one of her nicer (and skimpier) outfits and smudging a little glitter on her eyes on a whim. 

Phone, keys, purse, pepper spray. She was out the door by half eleven. If you couldn't go out alone in New York City, where could you? 

She took a cab to she and Alex’s favourite bar - an LGBT bar they had once been photographed in, dancing up on Laurens. It had made the papers and would probably have made more of a scandal if Alex hadn’t been aggressively out of the closet from the moment he’d entered the public eye. 

There’d still been press coverage, but then Alex’s entire career seemed to be built around public scandals. It had died down in its own time, and the bar had been pretty good at security stuff since then so there was no real reason to stop going.

She’d already got her text from Alex, assuring her that he was fine, and that he’d finished his piece for Washington, who hadn’t read it yet but “ _hes gunna love it betsy i fucking know it”_. She’d also received another text from John that exasperatedly said that yes he was fine, and that he’d persuaded Alex that he was the one in need of an early night and they’d be writing until one am, latest. 

She smiled at that. She liked John. He was brash and aggressively liberal-minded. He knew how to deal with Alexander’s shit and had been doing so for years. He never held any ill-will for the fact she’d swanned in while he was detained in a brief prison sentence in South Carolina and miraculously taken a share of Alex’s heart. 

She was perhaps a little early, she realised when she’d flashed her ID and stepped into the bar. While the music was pumping and the bar was reasonably busy with over-eager partygoers, the atmosphere hadn't bumped up enough Eliza could feasibly enter the dance floor alone and get lost in the crowds. Which is what she felt like doing.

It wasn't an urge to loose herself - well it was, a bit - as much as it was an urge to let herself enjoy being young and alive in New York. To take her mind off worrying about Alex and that little twinge of jealousy that came with him choosing to spend the night with John instead of her. 

She wasn’t jealous because of John himself, she didn’t think. She knew getting into this that Alex already had a boyfriend. Angelica had warned her against it but, well, Eliza had never really gotten her head around the idea that you were expected to fall for one person and one person alone. It didn’t seem practical, you never knew who else you might meet.

She loved Alex. She really, really loved him. And yet, when he’d suggested tying the knot she’d been sceptical. 

“What about John?” she’d asked, and Alex’s face had fallen. 

“Oh,” he said, “well, I can’t just stop seeing him, you know that.”

“No, I mean why aren't you marrying John?” Alex’s eyebrows had risen in confusion. 

“Because I love you?” he asked, like this was some kind of trick question, “And I love John, but he and I will never the type to play domestic and you’re the only one I would want to do all that… family stuff with.”

Eliza still hadn’t been sure. Had had to make sure John, too, was fine with their three-way thing changing, with Eliza and Alex letting him into their wedding bed (theoretically, of course. John was asexual.)

But they’d been engaged a while now and it was - it was perfect. She loved waking up with Alex. She loved the nights John stayed over and the three of them curled up in their kingsized bed. She and John had never been like that, but the two of them were friendly, and she loved him because Alex did. 

But sometimes, when John and Alex were working on something - like John’s latest anti-trafficking bill - they forgot about her a bit, got too wrapped up in each other and their project. Only then did she find herself not entirely content with their three way relationship.

She sat at the bar and ordered a drink, sipping on it and nodding her head to the deep bass music. She kept her eyes on the dance floor and her body language open. She was looking for companionship tonight. It didn’t take long to arrive. 

A vaguely familiar person wearing dark lipstick and skinner jeans than Eliza could ever pull off sat next to her, eyebrow cocked. 

“Eliza Schuyler?” they asked, in highly accented English, and Eliza placed them.

“Lafayette!” she said warmly, having to raise her voice over the thumping music. “Good to see you!” She’d met Alex and John’s college friend all of once before, and had been entirely unsure what to make of them. From what Alex had told her, they’d been the third part of the Alex/John/whoever trio for a long while, before falling into beautiful, monogamous love with a close family friend back in France. Now they were married with dual citizenship, and Eliza hadn’t even realised they were back in the country. 

“Yes, c’est moi,” they said, their lips spreading into a smile, “You’re Alex’s new girl, oui?” 

“Fiancée,” she corrected, and Lafayette whistled. 

“The tomcat’s tying the knot?”

“Yes,” she said, “Didn’t he say?”

“How did you persuade him into that?” asked Lafayette, and there was something in their tone that bugged her.

“He asked me,” she said coldly, and Lafayette laughed.

“Did he? That’s a surprise.” 

Eliza went to take a sip of her drink but found the glass empty. 

“Allow me,” said Lafayette, sweeping the glass out of her hands and leaning across the bar, clicking their fingers and getting the attention of the woman with hundreds of piercings working the tap. On anyone else, Eliza would have found the move douchey, but Lafayette smiled charmingly at the woman as she approached, essentially flattering her into serving them. 

Moments later, a drink was being slid into Eliza’s hand. It was pink, fizzy and ridiculous-looking, but tasted amazing enough she had nothing bad to say. 

Lafayette smirked over their own glass. “So, Eliza,” they said, drawing out the word, “How are you?”

Eliza smiled over her own glass in response, gulping a little more of the fizzy liquid and wondering, vaguely, if it was safe to drink something given to you by your fiancé’s ex-something. But then, Lafayette certainly didn’t bear Alex or John any ill-will, that she knew. “I’m fine - you?”

“Génial,” they said, winking, “Where is Monsieur Alexander tonight?”

 Eliza looked at them over the rim of her glass, “With John.”

“Oh,” said Lafayette, “That’s still going on?”

Eliza frowned. “Of course. Is there some reason it wouldn’t be?”

“No, no,” said Lafayette, “You misunderstand. I assumed, with you and Alex - ah - tying the knot-“ 

“John Laurens is just as welcome in our lives as he’s always been. I don’t think Alex could live without him.” 

“And could you?”

“Huh?”

“Could you live without Laurens, Eliza?” 

She put her drink down on the counter. She wasn’t imagining this - Lafayette’s tone maybe just a little too sharp. “I suppose,” she said, “But that’s not-“

“But you could not live without Alexander?”

“No.” she said, immediately. 

“So you cannot live without Laurens,” they said, smirking. 

Eliza was getting frustrated. Didn’t they have someone else they could bother? She changed the subject. “And how’s your wife?” she asked. 

Lafayette’s expression softened. “She is good. No, she is perfect.”

“What was she called again?”

“Adrienne,” they said, “and she is still in Paris.” 

“Do you miss her when you come back here?”

“Of course,” they said, “That question - it’s ridiculous, no? But we talk all the time.” He slid his phone from his tight jean pocket and waved it in Eliza’s general direction with a press of the lock button. Their lock screen photo was a them and beautiful young woman who had to be Adrienne.

“So do we,” said Eliza, flashing her own phone. Like she’d expected, she’d already received multiple messages from Alexander while she hadn’t been looking at it. She glanced down at them after making the point to her drinking companion. 

 

_john just offered to make out with me so id stop working_

_he’s evil_

_totally worked though_

_eliza ily_

_liza_

_betsy_

_betsyyyy_

_love you_

 

And then another text, just a line of different coloured emoji hearts. The great sap. 

She smiled at her phone, tapping out a “ _be good_ ” that, though it was meant jokingly, seemed a little too mothering, so she added “ _tell john that strategy is tried and tested_ ” and “ _love you_ ” with a unicorn emoji. 

When she returned her phone to her shoulder bag Lafayette looked at her with curiosity. “Why have you agreed to marry Alexander?” 

Eliza sighed deeply. “Has it occurred to you,” she said, “That a gay club in the middle of New York may not be the best place to talk about this?” 

“We could move elsewhere?” asked Lafayette, and Elza shook her head.

“I came here to dance,” she said.

“And yet you are not dancing.” 

“Not yet,” she said, and actually, screw it. She downed the rest of the pink fizzy drink, wincing a bit at the aftertaste, and slammed the glass on the counter. Then she slid off her chair and held out a hand. “Come dance with me.”

Lafayette raised their perfectly manicured eyebrows. 

“No seriously, come on. It’ll be fun.” 

“I have no doubt dancing is fun, Eliza, I just didn't take you for the kind to be so forward.” 

“You barely know me,” she said. She wasn’t, usually, but she was just a bit tipsy and more than a little frustrated, so she grabbed Lafayette’s hand and pulled them off their chair. 

She steered them through the crowd until they were in the centre of the dance floor, bass booming, and turned to smile at her dance partner.

Now they were actually here, she had lost a bit of her initial self-confidence. After all, she’d never been the one to ask, or the first to dance. That was all Angelica, and there was no Angelica here now to grab her hands and spin her round until she was breathless with laughter. 

Lafayette was bobbing their head to the music, apparently perfectly at ease. She smiled, a little awkwardly, and bounced on the balls of her feet. Then the track changed to one of Eliza’s favourites and she stared to sing along, and before she really knew what was happening she was dancing; or more accurately jumping up and down with some hip wiggling and general silliness. Lafayette joined in. 

They were a far more graceful dancer than her, shaking their hips and doing moves that wouldn't have looked out of place on the stage, their expression so smug that Eliza began to laugh.Before long they were dancing together, mock-grinding on one another and spinning around the dance floor. 

Dancing with Lafayette was more intoxicating than anything she could have ordered at the bar. One second they were guiding her in perfectly formed dance moves, the next they were grinding filthily against her, twirling around her, clutching at her hips. It was wild and intense and ridiculous. For every sensual moment, there was something that made her snort with laugher. Lafayette shouting the wrong lyrics; tripping over her own feet; bumping into the people next to them and shouting apologies. 

By the time Eliza clutched at Lafayette’s chest, exhausted and unable to continue dancing for a moment longer, her hair was beginning to stick to her forehead. She was unsteady on her feet but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Lafayette was no better.

“We could go that better place for talking now?” she shouted over the music, and Lafayette swung an arm around her shoulders and led her from the dance floor, out of the bar, and into the cool night air. 

She checked her phone. Five new texts from Alex, and two from John. She read Alex’s first.

 

_cant sleep_

_gunna get more work done instead shh dont tell john_

_got a text from laf they say youre with them???_

_what are you doing out clubbing???_

_elizzaaaaaa_

 

and then John’s, sent earlier in the night,

 

_if it’s alright can I stay the at urs next week - alex is fine with it_

_my dad’s threatening to come visit?_

 

I have messages from my boys, give me a second,” she said to Lafayette, who stepped away and let her stand up by herself as she typed a response to Alex’s message.

 

_go to sleep - yes I’m with Lafayette, we bumped into each other. And tell John he knows he’s welcome any time._

 

With that, she locked her phone and put it back in her bag, “I didn’t see you text Alex.”

“Thought I’d tell him what his fiancée gets up to on the nights he goes away,” said Lafayette, leading her forwards, “Shall we get coffee?”

She almost points out that it’s two in the morning, but then there’s probably still somewhere open. Lafayette leads her along the road, their hand on her arm. “Are you ok, mon ami? You seem shaky.”

She laughed. “Just a lightweight, don’t worry about it.” 

“On the contrary,” said Lafayette, “I am under the impression from your boyfriend’s frankly possessive texts that I’d be in distinct trouble if I let any harm come to you.”

“Alex said that?”

“No, Laurens did.” said Lafayette, “Which surprises me.” 

Eliza looked at the floor, trying not to trip on any cracks in the sidewalk. “Why?”

“John never used to react well to Alex’s… other partners. I’m surprised he likes you as much as he does.” 

“So am I,” said Eliza and, oh, she hadn't really meant to say that out loud. “I mean-”

“No need to explain,” they said, and then, “This is the place, by the way.”

The place was a rather classy all-night diner that Eliza had never really paid any attention to before now. It didn’t seem like Lafayette’s kind of coffee shop but they smiled at the service staff and charmed their way to the best booth in the place.

“So, explain something to me,” said Lafayette, once they were sat down, “How exactly are you and Monsieur Alexander engaged?”

Eliza sighed. “He asked me. I said yes.” 

“But why?” asked Lafayette, swirling their coffee with a teaspoon and looking her directly in the eyes. “And I mean this with no disrespect, Alexander had always been - how do you say - fickle in romance. I’d never have pictured him settling down.” 

Eliza shrugged. “I don’t know, honestly. He just… he likes me. I like him. He said he could see himself doing the whole domestic thing with me.”

“He’ll cheat on you,” said Lafayette, and Eliza crossed her arms on the table and tried not to betray how much their attitude was annoying her. 

“It’s not cheating if I know about it. And I know about he and John.” 

“You think you’re special. No, Eliza, I say this not to offend you. Alexander, he is… we called him the tomcat in college. He’s not the kind to settle.”

“Well,” said Eliza, “apparently he’s getting married anyway.” 

It’s not like she didn’t know about Alex’s attitude to relationships. He’d slept around, he was promiscuous, everyone knew he had difficultly stopping himself from doing stupid things and making mistakes. But he was also committed to their relationship.

“Thats the thing I don’t understand,” said Lafayette, “if he was finally tying the knot, why you and not John? They have been inseparable for so long.” 

“Hell if I know,” said Eliza, a bit more snappily than she had meant to be. “He and John are complicated, they’re not interested in that. And frankly, it’s not your business.” 

They didn’t say anything to that, just continued swirling their coffee with a teaspoon. The sound of the metal clinking against the edge of the cup was maddening. She knew she was playing into it, but she found herself saying, “I guess with me we can start a family.” 

Lafayette raised an eyebrow. “A family?”

“Well, yeah. Me, Alex and John.”

“And yet you are out alone while they spend the night together?”

“It’s not always like that. Usually John stays at ours, or he comes around during the day or Alex comes home to me. It’s not-”

“You are unhappy.”

“I’m not!” 

“You are,” said Lafayette, “because I have stood where you now stand, Eliza. I have been the second person in Alexander’s life, and it is fantastic, but it is painful.” 

“But you’re the one who left,” she said, “Alex didn't pick John over you.”

“Yes, but I felt as though he always would do. I would ask myself why I was not enough for him, why he needed me as a supplement for John. I would-“

“It’s not like that!” said Eliza angrily, and one of the service staff turned to look at her. She apologised meekly, and when she spoke again her tone was quieter. “It’s not like that with Alex and I. I’ve never sought out monogamy either. It’s not my thing.” 

Lafayette had bought their coffee to their lips, but now they lowered it. “Oh, I _see_. So you, too, have a - uh, side project?” 

“Not- not right now,” admitted Eliza. She’d considered it, finding somebody to spend the nights Alex was away with, or just hooking up for the sake of it. Hell, it’d been part of her motivation in coming out tonight. But she wasn’t really the hook-up kind, and maintaining two stable relationships always felt like quite a lot. How to let the other know she was engaged, for example? 

“Would you like one?”

“What?”

Lafayette smiled wickedly. “Would you like one? A side project?” 

“I mean, I’ve thought about it. But I wouldn’t even know where to start looking.”

“I see,” said Lafayette, “and I shall ask again? Would you like a side project?” 

They were leaning across the table now, coffee forgotten to the side. Eliza finally understood their meaning. “Are you offering?”

“Oh a - ah - trial basis.” 

“But your wife?” 

“Is all the way across the ocean in France, and no doubt passing the time quite well with one of her many potential suitors.” 

“Alex said you left to pursue monogamy.” 

“I left to pursue somebody who wasn’t Alex,” said Lafayette significantly, “to him, that means the same thing.” 

Eliza knew her cheeks were red. She knew that the service staff were watching their interaction with unabashed curiosity. She had come out tonight to find company, and here it was, offered on a silver platter. She pursed her lips, leaning across the table to lock eyes with Lafayette. “I’m interested.” 

She could feel their breath on her face and they looked at her with stern seriousness though their lashes, and she honestly thought they were about to go in for a kiss, but then they leaned away and smiled dazzlingly. “Perfect.” 

They picked up their coffee again and took a delicate sip, leaving Eliza reeling.

“Um, Lafayette?” she asked, “What exactly does side project mean to you?”

“I am to be who you spend your Alex-less nights with, of course.” 

“But what do you want?” she asked, knowing her face myst be bright red and feeling incredibly inappropriate to be discussing this in some diner with a person she’d really only properly met that night.

“What do you want?” asked Lafayette in response, which was infuriating.

She answered honestly. “Not necessarily sex. Just… it’d be nice to have somebody to spend the time with.”

“I thought as much. You do not need to let your fiancé have all the fun, Eliza.” 

It was all so formal, like some kind of business arrangement. She felt ridiculous even having had the conversation. 

“So,” said Lafayette, “This will work if we’re both on the same page that our primary relationships must come first.”

“Yes, of course, I wouldn’t want to come between you and Adrienne.” 

“That’s very considerate of you. Tonight, at least, we’ll go slow?” 

“Uh- yeah.” 

“And you will tell Alexander of our arrangement?” 

“Yes,” she said, though the idea made her toes curl. She couldn't imagine how that conversation would go. With Alex, it’d either end in an argument, or in Lafayette being invited into bed with them.

“Excellent,” he said, and they stood from the table, offering her an arm, “I shall take you home, then, my dear Eliza. We can discuss this more at a later date.”

Eliza didn’t take their offered arm, instead just walking close to them and feeling exceptionally, ridiculously awkward. Had she just agreed to starting up some kind of affair with a gorgeous french person her fiancé had dated back in college?

They took a cab back to her house and Lafayette kissed her once on each cheek. Yeah, she had.

 


End file.
